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But all I have to do is think about how happy she’ll be to see her guitar again.Jesus, this girl is going to cost me a lot of money.
I want to tell her I’ve found it, but what if something goes wrong? I don’t want to get her hopes up, only for her to be more disappointed than ever.
That, and I want to see the look on her face when she finds out she doesn’t have to replace her guitar.
She doesn’t have to replace her guitar.
The elation I felt a moment ago fades. The guitar is the last big thing Raine needs. I told her she didn’t have to stay all twelve weeks if she had all her gear, but she said that with the guitars she was thinking of getting, she’d have to work the full twelve weeks to save up for it.
But now she won’t have to replace her guitar. She won’t have to work at the pub anymore.
Once Raine has her guitar, it will be easy for her to leave. I’ve been pretending her leaving isn’t happening. I don’t want her to go... but at the same time, I do, because when I picture Raine’s future, it’s filled with stages and bright lights and ticket stubs. When I picture mine, it looks like almost every other day of the last five years.
My phone buzzes. Another message from Raine.
Raine
Floof Update—2:03am Sitting on my head as if I’m a pillow and not at all concerned about my ability to breathe.
Jesus, I love this girl, I think. And then I panic.
This is the worst thing that’s happened to me all day, and I can’t even tell myself it isn’t true. Because of course the one thing Ishoulddoubt, I don’t. Why else would the thought of her leaving make me absolutely miserable?
I don’t want Raine to go, but I can’t ask her to stay, can I? We like each other, sure. But we’ve known each other for less than two months. It would be ridiculous for her to turn her life upside down for that. I wouldn’t want her to.
But what if she didn’t have to turn her life upside down to stay? Didn’t she tell me that if she had the courage, she’d stop traveling and find somewhere to stay for a while so she could work on an album? I’m not sure what making an album consists of, but why couldn’t she do it here? I could convince her. She could stay in the flat awhile longer. I’d give her all the time and space she’d need to focus on her music. She could record it in Cork, or hell, I’d drive her up to Dublin if I had to. It would only buy me a bit more time with her, but time is exactly what I need. Time to figure out what these feelings mean. Time to figure out what I want. To figure out whatshewants.
You realize you’re bending over backward to make this work, right? Please tell me you know this makes absolutely no sense.
That’s what Ollie said the night Raine and I met, and everything turned out great. Why wouldn’t this be the same?
Sixteen
Raine
When I wake up, I find a Post-it note from Clara stuck to my forehead.
Got hungry waiting for you to wake up. Went downstairs. Fed the cat. xx
When I grab my phone, I discover it’s just after ten in the morning. I remember Jack coming over to kiss me and can’t stop grinning. I’m glad my sister isn’t here, because it would only take her one look to know something happened. I rub my hands over my face and roll out of bed, then wander into the living room. Sebastian isn’t on the cat perch, or on the couch, or in the windowsill. I wonder how Clara knew exactly what he needed, then catch sight of the Post-it notes I have stuck all over the kitchen with everything I need to remember about Sebastian and the flat.
I splash water on my face and brush my teeth, then hurriedly change before heading downstairs. Clara’s laugh rings out as soon as I open the door to the pub. I find her at the bar with Sebastian on thestool beside her. One of her legs swings beneath her as she perches on her stool and chats with Ollie and Róisín as if she’s been here for months.
I push away the unreasonable jealousy I feel. I can be extra sensitive to rejection, even when it isn’t actually rejection. For the last few weeks I’ve been thinking of the Local asmyplace, and these people asmypeople. But they aren’t, really. This is just twelve weeks of my life.
Just because Clara is fitting in great already doesn’t mean you don’t, the voice of reason says.
I mentally roll my eyes. I hate when the voice of reason is so... reasonable.
“Look who finally decided to wake up,” Clara says when I take the seat beside her. In front of her is a plate of half-eaten French toast with berries and some sort of custard and something else I don’t recognize. She shoves the plate over to me. Half of me wants to say I don’t need her leftovers. The other half is hungry and doesn’t care. I go with the hungry half because, really, this French toast looks amazing.
“Is this new?” I ask Ollie and Róisín.
“It’s incredible, Rainey,” Clara says. “I’m going to think about this breakfast for the rest of my life.” She turns to Róisín and looks them over. “I like your eyeliner. I can never get my wings even like that.”
Róisín blushes furiously. “Oh... Thanks. I could show you sometime. If you wanted.”
Clara smiles. “That would be nice.”
